The Equation of Death
by highfunctioning-homosapien
Summary: MorMor one shot. Mathematics has always fascinated Jim, but sometimes it isn't enough. Rated for attempted suicide, so beware of lots of angst. Obviously I own nothing.


Neurons fire, a hand moves across a page.

_A scream haunts the air, a knife is pulled from its sheath._

Equations and graphs scrawled.

_Slash and the blood pools._

Ink is spun into a web of mathematics.

_Blood paints a picture in scarlet on the floor._

The problem is solved.

_The deed is done._

James Moriarty sits back in his leather chair.

_Sebastian Moran wipes his steal blade._

Mathematics is Jim's language. Algebra the tongue with which he speaks. Killing. Killing could bring him delight. Faces turn purple as their cells scream for want of oxygen they will never receive. Eyes, with pupils blown wide, would plead for the mercy never given, whilst their organs spill upon the ground. Yes, killing could bring Jim delight, however it was mathematics which brought him euphoria. The monotony of the apathetic world could be forgotten, at least for a short while, as Jim's pen flew across paper. Signs, symbols, angles; meaningless to the simple minds of those he had killed or could kill but to Jim, the shapes spell an entire novel.

Presently, a door is opened. The spark in Jim's eyes dies.

"It's done."

"Very good."

"Anything else, sir?"

"No."

Sebastian leaves and Jim is alone once more.

"Jim!" Sebastian calls out through the sheets of rain and a clap of thunder interrupts his words.

"Jim!" He calls again but to no avail. The sound of thousands of droplets of rain against concrete fills his ears.

At long last a faint shape can be seen through the rain. Sebastian runs towards it.

"Sebastian…" Jim speaks the name as if he is voicing it for the first time; slow and unsure.

"Come down Jim!" He doesn't get too close now that he can see the sheer edge on which his superior is standing. Water cascades down the side of the roof to the empty street below.

Jim Moriarty doesn't move for some time. His eyes are glazed, detached, almost dead. His arms hang limp by his sides and the rain soaks through his clothes.

After some time, he speaks Sebastian's name once more, before lifting his arms as if to embrace the air.

"Jim, NO!" Sebastian leaps forwards in a sudden movement and pulls Jim back from the edge. Their bodies collide and they fall backwards, hitting the flat roof ungracefully.

Neither of the men are sure how long they are there for, lying on the rooftop as lightning rips open the skies above. Sebastian notices Jim is shaking, and whether from cold, or sobs or both he is unsure, but he speaks again. "Jim, shall we go back inside?" The smaller man nods in response, and Sebastian helps him get up.

Only once they are both back inside Jim's apartment, does Sebastian realise where they were.

"Why there? Why St. Bartholomew's hospital?" He asks as he peels off Jim's sodden jacket.

"I'm not sure…" Seb wonders whether this is the truth, but he doesn't press the matter.

"We need to get you into some dry clothes before you get hypothermia or something."

Jim remains standing in the living room, his clothes pooled about his feet as Sebastian disappears in search of dry clothes. He returns holding jogging bottoms and a jumper.

"Will these do?" He takes the silence as a _yes_ and turns his back as Jim dresses.

They sit in silence, Jim wrapped up in a blanket in Sebastian's arms on the sofa. In normal circumstances he would never be caught in anyone's arms, but this wasn't a normal circumstance, even by James Moriarty's standards. When he speaks again, his voice is empty. The usual charming flirtatious quality is gone. He tells Sebastian the precise measurements of the building and how this and the angle of which he would have fallen would have ended him. As he begins to talk of mathematics, Seb's brain starts to hurt. Jim knows Sebastian will never understand, but he has no-one else to tell.

"Can I ask you why?" Sebastian asks.

"Why? That's a good question." He thinks for a moment. "Because… Well, what's the point anymore?"

"…What about me?" Sebastian swallows, immediately regretting voicing his thoughts, Jim looks up at him questioningly. "I don't know what I would do without you here…" He whispers the last few words and lowers his face in shame.

"Oh Seb, you'll have to find something someday."

Seb presses his mouth against Jim's and Jim lets him. Jim digs his fingernails into Seb's back and Seb lets him.

Sebastian Moran remembers that as the second time James Moriarty had tried to end his own life. Afterwards he reverts back to ending other peoples.

_A clap of a gunshot interrupts his words._

_The sounds of a thousand droplets of blood against concrete fills his ears._

_At long last the light in his victim's eyes falters and fades_


End file.
